Life after sex

Going back to the topic of virginity and first times, here’s a post by another blogger with an introspective look on how sleeping with her high school boyfriend at the age she did affected her life.

Again, I am not a proponent of encouraging underaged girls to have sex when they are ill-prepared emotionally and/or physically. But I think about these things long and hard, and till now, the arguments favoring sexual experience before marriage truly outweigh those favoring abstinence.

I don’t think I’ve ever shared the story of my first, so I’ll do it here today. He was hot; tall, muscular, had his own apartment in Manhattan, had aspirations, was older and had incredible convincing powers over me. He had this way of looking at me that made me feel like he really wanted me, but was so confident that at times he seemed indifferent. I was completely infatuated–I wasn’t in love, and didn’t think I was, but I really looked up to him and there was definitely a lot of lust involved on my part. He was everything I wanted in a parter; he was educated, but more importantly driven, he had a bad-boy demeanor and a reputation to match, broad shoulders with tattoos on both shoulder blades, a smile that made me melt and a way of smoking his cigarette that just oozed cool (despite the fact that I dislike smoking). He was five years older than me; we met when I was 16.

It took a few encounters for him to get me to try giving my first blowjob, and another few after that to reach the lackluster peak of my first full-on experience with sexual intercourse. Actually, “lackluster” is putting it lightly. It was underwhelming, confusing, and I didn’t even realize it was happening.

We basically were naked in his bed, he encouraging me as I gave him another one of my apparently fantasic blow jobs, and he asked me if he could put it in “just a little.” I shook my head no, but he told me he wouldn’t put it in all the way and it would be fine. I considered this for a bit and let him get in position, at which point I kept thinking to myself “is there really such thing as halfway in? Or is in just in?” And before I got to the end of my thought we were fucking.

To any person advocating no sex before marriage, that probably sounds like a perfect example of why sex should be reserved for “special” nights like the night we get married. But let’s get one thing straight–sex may be great, but when you don’t know what you’re doing, unless you’re with an incredibly experienced person there’s simply very little chance anyone’s first time will be mind-blowing. If you don’t even know your own body, how do you expect your partner to know it?

That said, I KNOW my first time would have been better if it’d been with almost anyone else. He was hot, sure, but I’ve come to realize he was also pretty small and incredibly selfish (if you haven’t gathered that already). He fucked like a classic example of a man who watches too much porn; the positions were limited, it was all about making him cum in as short a time as physically possible, and no consideration was ever put into whether I was enjoying it, except for the fact that he probably took my wetness as a sign that I was LOVING it. I distinctly remember confessing to one of my girlfriends at the time that I felt I was just “one of those women who doesn’t like sex.” Yes–it was that bad.

And I’ve actually given him more chances since then, which I’m happy for because I’m more convinced than ever that our failure to ever have any kind of functional arrangement was mostly due to his difficiencies. While he’s probably still seducing young girls and horrifying them with his incessant nipple tweaking and severely unfortunate love-making skills, I have moved on to some amazing lovers and retained the blowjob skills he helped me develop. Oh yes … I owe that all to him. And you know what? I’m actually grateful for it.

In any case, despite how regrettable my first experience was, losing my virginity then put many things in perspective for me in terms of my self confidence and my relationships. I know what I want, and my happiness is less dependent on my partners than it was and would be now if I were still repressing my sexual urges. It was one time–a memory that is kind of funny to think of in retrospect–and it’s long been shelved along with memories of the amazing experiences I got later on as I discovered that I do love sex, and I know what I want out of it. So in this context, that one memory was a small price for a consciousness and lifestyle that is priceless to me and far more valuable than the status of being a virgin.

The first time is special and memorable, for sure … but it’s only the first step to more special moments afterward. Why put your entire romantic/sexual existence on hold for one supposedly-self defining moment? Life–and sex–only gets better from there. At least, it did for me.

I'm a 30-something multimedia creator from New York.
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